


Maybe

by neuroglam



Series: Nikiforov/Plisetsky Translations [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10019384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neuroglam/pseuds/neuroglam
Summary: Victor had a reputation as a player, but to think about it, Yuri had never actually seen him with a girl—or with anyone.Well. Now he has._____________________In some way, AU (Or not?)Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky (one-sided), Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov (background)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Может быть](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9921692) by [MariTotoshka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariTotoshka/pseuds/MariTotoshka). 



> The fic is tagged and summarized as the original author intended. By reading, you assume all responsibility for what you find herein.

When Yuri looked around the banquet room, Victor had disappeared. Victor could, of course, go wherever he wanted—but a vague sense of unease drove Yuri to look for him anyway.

The search didn’t take long.

Yuri saw him as soon as he walked into the corridor—with Yuuri, the Japanese guy who’d turned the banquet into devil-knows-what. Nothing in Yuri’s life, though, had prepared him for what he saw.

Yuuri had pressed Victor to the wall and was kissing him fiercely. One of Victor’s hands was above his head, pinned there by Yuuri, who was gripping it by the wrist. Victor’s other hand was buried in Yuuri’s hair as Victor responded to the kiss.

Yuri’s eyes noted every detail: Victor’s tilted head, the hair falling into his face, Yuri’s palm, sliding up his thigh… All of this was highly indecent, but that’s not what made Yuri freeze, as if struck by lightning. The real reason was this: Victor, always distant and removed, now melted under Yuuri’s hands like wax.

Yuri was used to Victor being somewhere far away. It might seem like he’s right here—standing next to you, so close yo could feel the heat from his body as he talks to you about something—but you only needed to look into his eyes to understand that there’s a vast chasm between you: that Victor’s thoughts were not only in a different place, but maybe even at a different time. It was like a glass wall separated Victor from the world, and no matter how hard you kept crashing into it, you’d never get through.

But, looking at Victor toss his head to the side, presenting his throat to be kissed, Yuri had no doubt: the wall was gone. Victor was only here and now.

And it hurt unbearably, that Yuuri had done what Yuri never could.

Yuri turning around and went back to the banquet hall. He hoped the two of them would find a more secluded place, lest they be seen by someone else.

Yuri, himself, would be quiet—not just because he didn’t wish any trouble on Victor, but because he wouldn’t know how to talk about this even if he’d wanted to.

Blood pounded in his ears. What he’d seen was branded on the inside of his eyelids—he just had to close his eyes and he was back in the ill-fated corridor.

Yuri hadn’t expected this from Victor. Hadn’t expected it at all.

Victor had a reputation as a player, but to think about it, Yuri had never actually seen him with a girl—or with anyone.

Well. Now he has.

***

A year later, by the sea that now reminded him of Hasetsu, Yuri finally saw: the old Victor didn’t exist anymore. The person he’d admired and had aimed to catch up to was gone.

In his place, there was a stranger.

The same stranger that Yuri had seen in a Japanese guy’s arms after last year’s Gran Prix Finale; a stranger who, it seemed, had been hiding all this time behind the glass wall that had surrounded Victor. The wall wasn’t there any longer—you could reach out, and you’d touch—and it frightened Yuri. It was unbearable, thinking of what had changed Victor like that. Everyone else naively assumed that it was Victor who had woken Yuuri, like the prince—his Sleeping Beauty. Yuri knew the truth. Knew it, and hated it.

The most awful thing was that Yuri liked this new Victor. Liked him much stronger than the one before, but… couldn’t talk to him, not like he used to. He needed to get to know him again, get used to him, again—and, apparently, fall in love again, too. It was infuriating. The angry words dripped off his tongue on their own accord—as if causing pain could somehow bring the old Victor back.

Yuri wanted to ask, “Is it because of the age difference?” but what came out was, “Get lost, old man.” He wanted to say, “I’m better than him!”—but what came out was… actually that almost did come out.

But Victor—Victor, it seemed, heard not the words but what was behind them. And he smiled so understandingly, so warmly, as if he knew perfectly well what Yuri was feeling. Knew, and understood.

Yuri walked away, teeth clenched. Angry tears welled at his eyes.

Even if he were to win right now, it wouldn’t change anything. Victor could come back to Russia—or come back to the ice as a competitor and not a coach—but when you drew the line the end result would be the same.

Before, Victor hadn’t belonged to Yuri, but he hadn’t belonged to anyone else either—and somehow, that hadn’t hurt so bad. Yuri could’ve still had hope. He could believe that, in only a couple of years, he was going to prove himself worthy of Victor.

But there was no hope left any more.

Why had he even thought that Victor would pick the better one?

More like, the one Victor picked would get to be better.

Well, to hell with that!

Maybe Yuri couldn’t have Victor any more, but the gold—the GPF gold—he would not surrender to anyone. He would win: this time, and the next; and maybe one day, someone would look at him the way Yuuri looks at Victor.

Maybe one day, someone would penetrate the invisible glass wall that had grown around Yuri while he wasn’t even paying attention.

Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> I regret the English-speaking fandom is such that this needs to be said, but: only leave the original author positive feedback. This work was written by a Russian, for Russians, about two Russians, in Russian. If you have anything negative to say, discuss it with your friends. This is NOT YOUR CONVERSATION. Or mine. We're only here as observers. 
> 
> Please do encourage the original author by leaving them kudos [ here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9921692). Also, feel free to kudo me to boost the fic's popularity.
> 
> Dragging me about the quality of the translation is OK. Drag away.


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